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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972880">Across Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kireibunni/pseuds/kireibunni'>kireibunni</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Friendship, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:26:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kireibunni/pseuds/kireibunni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A young college student enjoying time away from her studies is suddenly thrust in a bygone era. As she learns to survive, she gains friends and the interest of a peculiar Opera Ghost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Erik | Phantom of the Opera/Original Female Character(s), Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Heading Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alright, so funny thing: I wanted to reorganize my stuff and in the process, I felt a pang of insecurity about this fic. I had deleted my other profile, but immediately regretted the decision, so I'm back! I'm reposting the story in its entirety and will hopefully get to writing ch. 6. I hope I didn't upset people who really liked this fic and I hope you continue to follow whenever I get back to it 💗</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The streets bustled with life outside of the Palais Garnier, the sounds of chattering people and cars permeating the air. Cecilia took in the sight, soaking in some last minute sunshine before entering the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, she was engulfed in a tight hug. "Is this vacation perfect or not? Tell me the truth," said an all too cheery voice. Cecilia turned her head to look at the owner, a girl with a smile so bright she was sure anyone would be blinded by it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's perfect, Soph. It really is," Cecilia responded earnestly. In all honesty, it was a perfect vacation. Cecilia needed the time away from school, with its insane amounts of studying and midterms going on. When Sophie had called, exclaiming she had recieved a raise at her advertising firm, she'd been ecstatic. She had immediately suggested Paris as a treat. Cecilia jumped at the chance, ecstatic at the fact that she would get a well deserved break and get to spend time with her closest friend. Besides, they'd been dreaming about this trip for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moved inside, passing through foyers until they stood facing the grand staircase. Cecilia could barely contain her grin as she took in the sight before her. Yes, definitely worth the wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the course of her studies, she'd researched the building's construction. Charles Garnier's designs were representative of the Second Empire style, but gorgeous nonetheless. She wriggled out of her friend's embrace, staring wide-eyed at the expansive space. "Soph, can you believe that Garnier designed all of this? The opulence is amazing!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophie laughed at her eager friend before joining her on the stairs, ruffling her hair. "You're such a nerd, Ceci. Come on, we have a building to explore. And who knows? We might discover some spooky secrets."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now, you're speaking my language! Maybe I can put my useless information to the test," Cecilia laughed. The girls set off, using their broken French to guide them to desired spots. All the while, Cecilia took pictures with her Polaroid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They traveled through the Salon du Glacier, the Salon de la Lune, and the Salon de Soleil. Finally, they had stumbled into the auditorium, slack-jawed at the rich gold and blood red of the opera boxes. Cecilia poised her camera to capture the true star of the theater: the enormous chandelier. Even in pictures, it seemed to drip with pure light and gold.  "Alright Ceci, time for the main attraction," said Sophie. Cecilia stared after her. Wasn't the whole opera the main attraction?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She followed her vexatious friend, walking the long hall of opera box doors until they stood in front of a golden plaque.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Loge du Fantôme de L'Opera," Cecilia breathed, running her fingers over the words. "What's that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"More like who's that," Sophie responded. "Supposedly, from what I read, it was a guy who wore a mask and haunted this building, extorting money and causing mischief along the way."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Wait, are you talking about the book? I legit thought it was all a bunch of phooey."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh no, Ceci. The locals believe he lived and died here. The management even went as far as keeping this box reserved for him. Or his ghost, I guess. But if I'm being honest, the facts have been watered down through the decades. Think of it like a really bad game of telephone. At least the book saved it and turned it into an urban legend. Am I right?" She laughed, playfully elbowing Cecilia's arm. Before she could say another word, Sophie's phone vibrated from her bag. Her brows furrowed seeing the contact on the screen. "Oh, shit," she breathed. "Hey, Ceci, I gotta take this. I'll be right back. Hopefully it doesn't take too long."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Left alone with only her thoughts, Cecilia walked up to the circular window, attempting to get a glimpse inside. She stood on her tiptoes, her hand clutching the doorknob for support. It yielded from the pressure, unlatching the door unexpectedly. She yelped, caught off guard. Puzzled after the initial shock, she turned the knob. Surely it should be locked? Most of the doors were locked during public hours, after all. She glanced both ways down the hall, checking to see if anyone noticed her. A few tourists were further down the hall, oblivious to her as they studied the busts of composers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia felt a rush of excitement at seeing the so-called "Phantom's box". Without a second thought, she slipped through like a shadow, quickly shutting the door behind her. She let out a relieved breath, still in disbelief at her own actions. The thoughts were shoved aside as she took in the reserved box. She moved slowly, not wanting to attract attention. In the hallway, she could still hear distant voices. She maneuvered her way through the chairs, pausing next to an intricately carved pillar. "Oh wow," she breathed, a smile creeping onto her lips. Images passed through her mind of countless performances, of ballerinas and singers passing gracefully over the stage in phenomenal costumes. She nodded her head as she sat by the pillar. "Ok, Mr. Ghost, you do have good taste in seating arrangements. I'll give you that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tapped her fingers on the marble of the pillar. Curiously, it sounded hollow. She tested it again by knocking on the stone. <em>Why the hell is this hollow?</em> Before she could inspect it further, she heard approaching voices. Not wanting to get caught, she quickly and quietly made her way out of the box. She looked around, hoping to see Sophie sauntering back from her call. No Soph in sight, though. Or anyone for that matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was deafening, making Cecilia suddenly uncomfortable. Why did it seem so dead in a span of a few minutes? She made her way toward the grand staircase, keeping an eye out for her best friend. She wondered whether she was lost. She hadn't seen any signage, and even the lighting seemed dull. Odd. She turned a corner, and there was the staircase. Her eyes caught sight of fleeting forms, women in long, natural form bustles, their hair done up in tight chignons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was some kind of a historical reenactment? She heard more voices, men in neat suits and more women in long dresses. They paid her no mind, continuing their discussion in French. From what she could pick up, they mentioned something about the next night's opera and how someone named Christine would go on as the lead.  Cecilia became more and more unsure. She found a discreet alcove where she could see without being seen. Everyone that passed wore 1880s clothing. There were no modern clothes in sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, Ceci. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this," she whispered. Plausible ideas ran through her head; maybe it really was  a historical event, albeit a sudden one. Maybe some tourists decided to try and feel what it must've been like in the 1880s. Maybe... maybe... She held her hands to her head, trying to think of her next course of action. Asking someone seemed to be the only option. Regaining her composure, she took a deep breath and walked up the stairs. She spotted a petite woman with curly blonde hair, also making her way up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Excusez-moi," Cecilia said, noting how terrible her French sounded. The young woman turned towards her, a small smile gracing her face. Cecilia continued. "Parlez-vous Anglais?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman nodded, gesturing with her thumb and index finger. "I do somewhat," she replied with a slight Swedish accent.  Cecilia breathed a sigh of relief at the confirmation, stopping on the same step. "Do you happen to know what year it is?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman raised an eyebrow, but answered patiently. "Why, it is 1882."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia's gut dropped at the answer, her mind racing. <em>What the diddly fiddly fuck was going on here?</em> She snapped back to the present, noticing the confused look on the blonde's face. "Thank you, um..." She stammered, feeling her cheeks warming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Christine. Christine Daaé," replied the girl, holding out her hand. Why did the name sound familiar?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm Cecilia Juárez. You can call me Ceci," she responded, taking Christine's hand.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's a very beautiful name. From your accent, I take it you are American," Christine said with a smile. "What brings you here?" Cecilia blanched. How was she going to explain that she was from the 21st century, let alone to someone she just met? But the girl, Christine, exuded a calm and understanding aura. Surely she could explain her predicament in detail, given the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, you see, I got separated from my companion a-and I don't know how to get back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in her gut told her she could trust this woman, that she would understand the situation. She decided to take the plunge. "Christine? I... I need your help." Christine raised an eyebrow, but listened intently. Cecilia continued, shaking ever so slightly. "I have nowhere to go. I'm lost, and I don't know if I'll survive out there on my own. I'm scared."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine's brow furrowed in concern, listening to the woman's plea. She had taken in the girl's strange clothing, shoes, and bag, but didn't bring it up, not wanting to be rude. After a few moments, she nodded with decision. "Come with me to my dressing room. We will figure something out and you can tell me what has happened to you." She gave a reassuring smile, holding out her hand for Cecilia to take.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ceci took it, letting out a shaky breath as they headed to the dressing area of the Opera. They never saw the golden eyes following their every step.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Newcomer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The two women slipped their way through the theater, intent on getting to the dressing room posthaste. Cecilia's mind raced as she was led through the unseen world of the backstage area, not caring about the peculiar gazes she received. Due to her state of dress, Christine explained to curious bystanders the girl was merely a new ballerina who did not know her way around and took it upon herself to help the new soul out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Guess it helped that I wore the bow and tie-up shoes, huh?" Cecilia joked, keeping pace with Christine's steps. Christine laughed quietly, giving Cecilia a quick glance before responding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It does indeed. My dressing room shouldn't be too far now. It is a solitary thing away from the hustle and bustle, so no one should bother us there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they walked, Cecilia couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, like something was right at her heels in hot pursuit. She pushed the thought away, keeping her eyes focused forward. "Of course you're being watched, you dummy. You stand out like a VERY sore thumb here," her conscious scolded her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They entered a lonely dimly lit hallway, the noises from gossiping ballerinas and stagehands seeming so distant, as though this area was in its own little bubble. Cecilia let her mind wander at last, finally free of all noises as she watched Christine take out a tiny key and insert it, gently opening the door. "Come in, please." Without hesitation, Cecilia entered the moderately sized dressing room, staring in awe. It was filled with flowers, wigs, a couch, chaise lounge, and a vanity. The object that caught her eye was the seemingly massive full length mirror at the far end of the other room against the wall, intricately bordered with gilded gold flowers and insects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Man, this is bigger than my own bedroom," Cecilia sighed, slowly feeling the weight of the days events upon her shoulders. Suddenly, she felt as if her legs could give out at any second, her mind finally being hit with the realization of her predicament. She found her way to the chaise lounge, breathing shakily as she lowered her body onto the soft surface, letting her backpack fall from her shoulders to the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine scurried her way over to the weary girl after securing the door, her face filled with worry. She placed a comforting hand on Cecilia's back, gently moving it in a soothing movement. "Stackare. Tell me, what exactly has happened to you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia tried to gather her thoughts, carefully deciding how to word her next sentence. Averting her eyes, she spoke. "Um, so, would you believe me if I told you that I'm not actually from this time?" She mentally braced herself, waiting for Christine to call her completely mad and turn her away. To her surprise, after a quiet moment between them, she heard her answer in that sweet voice of hers. "I would. Judging from your outfit, you are most certainly not from here. How did you manage that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia shook her head, looking at Christine as she clasped her hands together. "I-I don't know. One minute, I was in Box 5 and next thing I know, I'm one-hundred plus years in the past. I literally have no idea what happened." She pulled her face into her hands, heaving out a deep sigh. Christine gently removed her hands from her, instead opting to carefully wrap her arms around Cecilia's shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia lifted her head, surprised by the contact, but relaxed ever moreso. Having someone who knew the ins and outs of this time would prove useful and she grew accustomed to Christine's presence by the minute. Cecilia wanted nothing more than to sleep, to put off thinking on how she could get back until tomorrow. She was brought out of her daze by Christine's voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "I have to go to rehearsal, but it shouldn't be more than an hour or two. Will you be alright until I return?" She spoke softly. Cecilia mustered a yes, nodding her head. Christine slowly removed herself from the weary girl, giving her the sweetest smile before exiting the room. Now alone, Cecilia let out a groan before laying completely on the chaise lounge, staring at nothing and everything all at once. "Fuck, what am I gonna do?" She whispered. As she lay there, her eyes slowly got heavier and heavier until sleep finally consumed her thoughts, her breath slowing lightly. As she slept, she never heard the full length mirror silently open, allowing a shadow to enter the space.</span>
</p><p>-*-</p><p>
  <span> Erik, quiet as a cat, floated into the dressing room with ease, his eyes fixed on the strange visitor on the chaise. Surely, his ears hadn't deceived him. A stranger from the future? How could that be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he stood next to the sleeping form, he carefully kneeled to grab the strange bag she had let fall from her shoulders. He cradled it against him, moving back a ways so as not to awaken the girl. He lifted the small flap to reveal its contents, his eyes making out strange items.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, his hand lifted up a folded piece of leather that, when opened, revealed strange objects. The first thing his eyes noticed was the girls picturesque smile, emerald eyes alight with glee. He scanned the words on the piece of shiny parchment, searching for evidence of her supposed travel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was. His eyes glided over her birth date; September 4th, 1995.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So... it was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This girl was indeed from the far future. His mind raced as he pictured the possibilities of what the future held, what humanity could have accomplished in the span of one-hundred and thirteen years. He gazed at the picture a moment longer before replacing it back in its place, grasping the thin rectangular box inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting it, he immediately noticed that the front had a glass covering and only a single button. Pressing it, the mirror suddenly came alive with a bright light, the image of two girls grinning with strange carriages in the background and impossibly high buildings. He was stopped from his exploration as the item required a strange code to continue. He rolled his eyes as he placed it back in the bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the contents consisted of a small pink box with a strange white string attached, a circular item with a peculiar net texture, keys, and a pocket knife. "Well, she is prepared, at least," he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erik perked when he heard the girl shift, standing still until she settled into sleep once more. He let out a small relieved sigh, relaxing as he gingerly placed the strange bag next to the chaise lounge. As he stood, he casted a shadow over her, his mouth set in a straight line under the mask. Oh, how he wanted to prod her for more information, to know if humanity grew as a community or still kept its barbaric ways of thinking, to know what architectural wonders and inventions would be created. Such possibilities!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mentally stopped himself. "If you speak to her now, you will risk exposing yourself to sweet Christine, you great booby!" His mind snapped at him as he contemplated his next course of action. He refrained from waking this strange traveler, deciding to wait until she was alone once more. He had to know the answers. "What strange tides could have brought a girl from the future?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final glance at her peaceful face, he retreated back to his domain, melting into the shadows seamlessly until the mirrors glass closed the barrier between them once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia stirred in her sleep, lightly curling in on herself as vivid images crossed her mind. Sunlight warming her skin, arms holding her in a loving embrace, sounds of laughter in her ear, fire and sirens replacing everything in a flash. She opened her eyes then, her breath hitching as she regained consciousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slowly sat upright as her eyes focused on her surroundings, her hands rubbing the sleep away. She gazed at her bag by her feet, picking it up and grasping her phone from inside. As she turned the screen on, she noticed the bars were nonexistent. So, it wasn't just a dream. She sighed as she replaced it back in her bag, removing her mp3 player instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as she was about to stick her ear buds in, the sound of the doorknob jolted her fully awake. She quickly put it in her bag as she saw Christine enter the room. "Oh my god, you scared me!" she breathed, holding a splayed hand to her chest as her shoulders slumped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My apologies!" Christine closed the door behind her, holding large fabrics in her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Has it been an hour already?" Cecilia yawned as she stretched her sore muscles, making a high pitched noise as she did so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine made her way to the lounge before sitting down next to Cecilia, her skirts slowly deflating. "It has and I have an idea, if you will hear me out," she replied, grinning lightly. Cecilia nodded and Christine at the affirmation continued. "You can stay with me at Mamma Valerius' for as long as you need. I promise, food and clothes will be provided for you and... it will be good to have another woman in the house." Christine smiled as she lay a hand on Ceci's shoulder. "I brought you a cloak to wear when we set out. It is chilly outside and I do not want you to become ill." She held up the soft fabric, which Cecilia carefully took.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She noted how soft it felt as she ran her hands delicately over. A pang of warmth ran through her, emotions squirming through her heart. In a quick movement, she wrapped her arms around Christine, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "Thank you so much for doing this," she whispered, letting her feelings take over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine returned the gesture, giving her a squeeze before pulling back, smiling happily. "It is of no trouble, I promise you. And between you and I, your company is greatly wanted and I am grateful for it. Come, let us go before it gets any later."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both women set to gathering their belongings before finally donning their long cloaks. As Christine dimmed the lights, Cecilia took one last look at the mirror behind them before setting off into the night.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Serenity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Cecilia took the time to inspect her surroundings as they walked, the chill air nipping at her face. She noticed that the sky had melted into splashes of rose pink and amethyst purple, blending seamlessly into the approaching navy blue of night. Instead of asphalt, there was cobblestone, worn from horse-drawn carriages, but nevertheless smooth. They passed by small shops that weren't there in modern times and she could see displays of old-fashioned clothing in the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is really different," Cecilia said quietly, pulling her cloak closed to conceal her modern attire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can only imagine. How is Paris in your time?" Christine kept a leisurely pace with her new companion, hair blowing in the gentle breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, the cobblestone definitely isn't there. There are cars." Cecilia realized that the word would mean nothing to Christine. "I'll tell you about those when we get to your house. Um, there's lots of electric lighting. Everything is really bright, unlike the way it is now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continued to answer Christine's questions as best she could while they walked, passing alleys and the occasional pedestrian. Eventually, they stopped in front of a flat with a small garden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they walked into the main hall, Cecilia's jaw dropped. "Ohhh my god," she whispered. Gone were the clean lines of modern minimalism. Everything was ornate. The furnishings and lighting fixtures were beautiful in the dull lighting. Even the railing on the stairs was intricately designed, making Cecilia squeal with excitement. "Christine, this flat is super duper beautiful!" Christine gave her a quizzical look causing Cecilia to stop herself. "Sorry," she giggled. "It's a figure of speech. It's kind of common in my time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine gave her a heartfelt chuckle before closing the door. "Thank you," she replied, unfastening her cloak to hang on the hook by the door. "Keep your cloak on until we reach my bedroom. I want you to meet Mamma first."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia didn't object as Christine led her to the left and down a hall before stopping in front of a door with gilded etchings on the panels. Christine knocked before entering, motioning for her guest to follow. Cecilia's eyes wandered to the nearby French doors giving an ample view of the street below. Finally, her eyes settled on the elderly woman in bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine took a seat by the bed, softly shaking the woman's shoulder. She whispered a few words to her guardian before turning her eyes to Cecilia, beckoning her forward. The older woman looked up with tired but kind eyes. A sincere smile formed upon her wizened lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, you are Christine's friend?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am, Madame," Cecilia responded, her voice at a near whisper as she nodded her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please, call me Mamma," the woman said. "I am glad my Christine has found another friend. With you, Raoul, and the Angel, she will not be so lonely."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia raised an eyebrow at that. She didn’t miss the way Christine pursed her lips at the mention of an angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get some rest, Mamma, and I’ll see you in the morning." Christine kissed Mamma's forehead before leading Cecilia toward the door. With a quiet goodbye, they left the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine led her companion to the other half of the flat. They stopped in front of a door similar to Mamma's, albeit without the gilded etchings. Christine opened the door and ushered Cecilia into her bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was in a light shade of baby blue, with kerosene lamps on both bedside tables. There was a window overlooking the street with sheer delicate curtains. The bed had a simple wrought-iron frame and a comforter patterned with hand stitched bluebirds. Cecilia looked with wide-eyed wonder at the trinkets and artifacts sprinkled around the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please Ceci, have a seat."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine was already lighting the lamps and the room was soon filled with a warm glow. She moved toward the large oak armoire. "I think I should have some clothing that will fit you. We seem to be around the same size," Christine surmised. Her voice was muffled as she dug through the large cupboard, pulling out bodices, skirts, and other garments Cecilia didn’t recognize. Finally, she removed a dressing gown and chemise, holding the items in the crook of her arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine laid the clothes on the bed. "Here is some sleepwear for you. They are not your usual style of clothes, but I hope they will do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, absolutely! I'm definitely not picky."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good, because I’m afraid we don’t have an extra bed. Would you object to sleeping on the floor? There’s room by the fire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem,” Cecilia laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you for being so agreeable. Now, I am starving. Let’s see if we can’t find something for dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them changed into their respective dressing gowns after dinner. Christine sat beside her expectantly and Cecilia was reminded of her many sleepovers with Sophie. Tonight, there would be no discussion of homework or job hunting. Nevertheless, she owed Christine some answers. "So," she started, "what would you like to know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, what did you do for a profession?" Christine folded her hands together as she watched Cecilia's face, excited for her responses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia thoughtfully draped her index finger over her top lip, browsing through proper descriptives. "Hmm, I don't work. I'm actually in my last year of college with a major in history." Images of long study sessions and overnighters entered unbidden across her mind. She pushed them aside as she continued. "I was looking for work before this trip; something that would be good for my major and my wallet. Unfortunately, they don't hire very many historians in the modern day." She spoke the last few words with disdain, letting out a defeated sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You poor soul," Christine said, concern lacing her voice. "It is hard to find work, I will admit. I have been lucky, as you probably know. Being at the Opera brings me the greatest joy because I feel as if my soul is free among the music. Do you think being a historian would bring you happiness, Cecilia?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah! History makes me happy because I get to know almost every single detail of the past that most people don't know or don't care about unless they're forced to look at notes. I could teach the ignorant or eager and help them be more enlightened in history's greatest achievements." As she spoke, she became more lively and animated, much to Christine's surprise. She smiled at her new friend's enthusiasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"More importantly, Cecilia," Christine interjected, "are you worried about not being in your own time? What if you cannot get back?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia ceased her animated movements as she let Christine's question sink in. What if it was true and she really couldn't get back? Countless scenarios ran through her mind until she willed them away, forcing the impending dread to disappear. She shook her head and looked Christine in the eyes, a smirk on her lips. "You'd have to show me everything and how to act properly. Can't have a 21st century woman running around loose, can we?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine giggled as she nodded her head in affirmation. "I suppose we can't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh! That's right, maybe I should show you what I have in my bag and teach you about them, if you want me to," she said with glee, carefully picking the bag up as Christine smiled brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It would be a delight, oh wise one," Christine joked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia had proceeded to unpack the contents of her backpack, carefully placing each one in front of Christine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine looked at the items curiously, which consisted of her MP3 player, portable speaker, wallet, lanyard with keys, a pocket knife, and her small Polaroid camera. Cecilia toyed with the gold locket around her neck, lost in distant thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh!" Christine exclaimed. "I was going to ask about your necklace. It’s beautiful, I must say. Where did you acquire it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh? Oh, uh, I've had this since my fifteenth birthday. My ah... my mom gave it to me. I don't know if you can see, but it's got some wear on it. Most of the jewels are missing." Cecilia unclasped the chain, holding it carefully. "It was my great-great-grandmother's so, technically, it should be with her right now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"May I?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia nodded as she deposited the object into Christine's hands, watching as she ran her fingers over the bird etching before opening it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is your mother and father, I take it?" Christine asked. "Where are they now?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia felt her throat tighten. "Uh, well, they... they're," she struggled before biting her bottom lip, unable to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.” Christine placed the locket in Cecilia’s hand. " I did not mean to stir bad memories."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you're okay. I just don't know if I'm ready to talk about it," Cecilia managed. "But it's ok. I promise."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe we should both sleep. It has been a long day, and quite extraordinary."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia agreed, packing away her possessions and laying the locket beside her. Her thoughts drifted again as she heard Christine get into bed. "Christine, Mamma said something about an angel. Who was she talking about?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine seemed to still, taking in a deep breath before rolling over to face her. "Would you mind if I spoke to you about it tomorrow? It is... quite a long story."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No problem. Goodnight, Christine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both women settled in their respective spots, each one snuggling under the covers for comfort as silence descended upon them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia found the floor to be surprisingly comfortable, and she was warm by the fire. It was a far cry from the hotel room she’d slept in the night before, but she had no complaints. Before long, the prospect of a long sleep sounded like a beautiful idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes closed as she found rest. Her whole body relaxed as nightingales sang their song in the night air.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Doubt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Soft sunlight and birds songs filtered in through the French doors, slowly waking Cecilia from her slumber. She squinted from the bright light, groaning as she stretched her aching body upon her makeshift bed on the floor. As her eyes adjusted, she took in her surroundings. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn't a dream,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" she reminded herself. She sat up and noticed her host was nowhere to be seen. Gathering her bearings, she straightened herself and donned a lacy cream white dressing gown before quietly walking to the kitchen area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine looked up from cooking, smiling at her guest, gesturing for her to take a seat at a small table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I trust that you slept well?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia nodded her head. "Thank you. You know, this is all still really strange for me, but you're making it a lot better, Christine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It is no trouble at all. Now, let us eat." As she set a plate consisting of eggs and bacon in front of Cecilia, the young girls stomach growled unexpectedly. Waving her embarrassment away, the women ate in calming silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia gazed at Christine before opening her mouth to voice the question that had been occupying her mind. "Christine, who exactly is this 'angel' that Mamma talked about?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw as Christine put down her utensils, a small smile starting to form. "Oh, it's the most wonderful thing! It's the Angel of Music, you see. My poor papa promised to send him to me when he died and he did! He's been my most constant companion and a very dutiful teacher." Christine became animated then, her eyes almost sparkling from the excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia stared in subtle disbelief as she took a sip of her milk. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ooook, she's not right.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Cecilia nodded her head, trying hard to bite her tongue. Then again, she had no right to talk; she herself had tried to find unusual ways to cope since…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do wish you'll be able to hear him soon," Christine said, interrupting her guests thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I sure hope so," she replied with a smile, continuing to munch on her breakfast with her new friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun shone on the two women as they entered the opulent Opera House, Cecilia making Christine laugh as they strode through the foyer. Cecilia didn't pay attention as she bumped a man's shoulder before yelping in acknowledgment. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Monsieur! I should really watch where I walk," she chattered nervously as she looked up at the gentleman. He was a man of average height and brown skin, with what she recognized as an astrakhan cap atop his head. She noticed that his dark beard was impeccably trimmed, with hints of gray peeking out from under his cap. Completely unimposing which caused Cecilia to let out a quiet relieved exhale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, it is quite alright, I assure you," he spoke with a small smile, his voice calm and soothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia issued another apology as Christine excused themselves to the amphitheater, the man momentarily staring after them a moment longer before striding off to another part of the building. "Christine, who was that?" She had hooked her arm through Christine's, looking back over her shoulder for a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nobody knows his name, I'm afraid. He tends to come every so often, but he's been here more and more lately. Everyone just calls him 'The Persian'." They had passed through the amphitheater and all through the backstage area until they had reached the familiar dim hallway. A figure stood outside of the dressing room door, turning their body as the women slowly approached. As they got closer, Cecilia could make out that it was a young man with perfectly coifed blond hair and a thin mustache sitting upon his upper lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Raoul? Raoul, what are you doing here?" Christine said with slight annoyance as she went to unlock the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he was opening his mouth, he seemed to clamp up at seeing her companion. "I-I didn't see that you had a guest," he said sheepishly. Christine ushered both visitors into the room, closing the spot with some haste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Raoul, this is my friend, Cecilia," Christine said as she gestured to her. Raoul had stepped closer to Cecilia, gently taking her hand and uttering a shy hello, before kissing her knuckles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not a bad looking guy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"He's my… childhood friend, you see. Could you excuse us for a moment, ma chère?" Cecilia nodded, allowing them privacy as she walked into the larger room with the mirror. As she approached it, she took a glance at how different she looked, how surreal. Christine had allowed her to wear a dress of hers, the color of which was of a seafoam green and decorated with vines around the neck and apron, her necklace hanging delicately against the fabric. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish Mom could see me like this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, Christine came through the archway, beckoning Cecilia with her sweet voice to join them in the adjoining room. The man, Raoul, gazed at Christine with a look that Cecilia knew as she had seen it in a former flame of hers. "Raoul has to be on his way, unfortunately," Christine said, her annoyed tone replaced with softness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was nice to make your acquaintance, Cecilia. Do take care of Christine, won't you?" He had such a boyish charm to his voice that Cecilia couldn't help but blush a little as he kissed her knuckles again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, sir."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled before turning his attention to Christine once more, who gently led him to the door. They exchanged words too quiet for Cecilia to hear and before long, it was just the two women. "So, he was kind of cute," Cecilia joked before taking a seat on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christine giggled as she sat besides the young woman. "I suppose he is. I didn't realize how much until I saw him again after my debut. But, oh how I wish he would respect my privacy." Her eyes turned to her hands as she fiddled with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia didn't want to prod her, so she got up from her spot, holding out a hand gently to Christine. "Maybe you can show me more of the Opera House, eh? And I can tell you more about my time." This seemed to break Christine's somber mood, causing the blonde haired woman to smile and take Cecilia's hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let us explore, my curious friend. I can show you my favorite spots as we walk." Christine smiled brightly as she escorted Cecilia out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amber eyes followed the girls' every move as they glided through each domed room and long hallway. Christine's voice, although quiet, echoed through the empty corridors. The shadow had slinked its way into every crevice it could find, careful in its movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the women had passed by the Opera's library, the figure had perched itself on the upper levels, staying close to the shadowed areas. "And what exactly do you think you're doing?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shadow didn't sway, only raised a skeletal hand to shoo away his unwanted guest. "None of your business. Now, go away," the shape said, annoyance tainting his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man with the astrakhan cap walked forward, but dared not touch the shadow lest he invoke his wrath. "Erik," he began, "why are you following Mlle. Daaé and her companion so intently, eh? What are you planning?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The looming shadow turned, his eyes being the most discernable quality behind the black mask in the dim lighting of the second story. "Why, my dear Daroga," he said in a mocking tone, "would you ever suspect that I was up to something? Surely, you must have more important engagements to attend to than spying on me of all things." The shape, Erik, straightened to his full height, his cape flowing down his body like water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Daroga pinched the bridge of his nose in vexation before speaking up. "All I am asking is why? You have been acting strangely since you up and disappeared a couple of weeks ago when Mlle. Daaé took a leave of absence. Am I to believe that it was just a coincidence, Erik? You're not fooling me." He sighed, crossing his arms. This skeleton of a man was purposely trying to drive him to an early grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't believe I'm at liberty to divulge my personal business to you, old friend," Erik said coyly. "You would be wise to remember that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erik readied himself to disappear into the shadows when the Daroga spoke. "Do you know who that young lady was? She bumped into me earlier, but I don't remember seeing her before." Erik could practically feel himself rolling his eyes at the mundane observation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The strange girl is of no importance. Just another obstacle to be conquered." And with that, Erik swiftly exited the upper floors through one of his secret bookcase doors. The Daroga stared after the spot his spectral friend had just inhabited with confusion. What did he mean by strange?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait, so are you telling me that women are allowed to wear what you call 'jeans' in your time? Comme c'est extraordinaire!" Christine joyfully pulled on Cecilia's arm as excitement entered her spirit. "Your time sounds wonderful from the sounds of it!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It kind of is, yeah," Cecilia said, smiling as she walked. "A lot of people in my time take everything for granted, to be honest. Don't get me wrong, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> pants, but it's not everyday that you get to experience wearing a gorgeous historical dress." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, you're quite right in that regard." Christine had led them through the long hallway of opera box doors, the sounds of people conversing far behind them. As they passed the second to last door, Cecilia stopped at the far end door, letting Christine's arm go in the process. The golden plaque that adorned the wood wasn't on it, as if it never existed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Christine, do you know if there was ever an etching on this door? Like saying something about it being someone's box?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde shook her head. "No, not at all. But, this is what the ballet girls call The Phantom of the Opera's box."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia's eyes widened. There was no way…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the familiar silence enveloped her and she turned her head to find that her new friend was nowhere to be seen. As she turned her head back to the door, the plaque was on the door as it had been before she disappeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ceci, oh my god!" Sophie's voice caught her attention, almost scaring her to death. Her friend scurried over before wrapping her arms tightly around her, practically suffocating her in the process. "Where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>have you been? I get off the phone and you were just gone!" Sophie frantically looked over Cecilia to see if she was hurt. When she saw no injuries, her tone turned disapproving and confused. "Don't scare me like that!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"B-but, I'm ok! How long was I even gone for?" If she said a day, Sophie would lose her mind. Cecilia decided to keep her mouth shut to spare her friend from more worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You were gone for about 4 hours. I went looking and looking after my call ended," Sophie said with exasperation. She eyed the dress Cecilia wore. "Ceci, where'd you get this? What happened to your other clothes? And your bag?"</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, crap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried thinking of a plausible reason for the dress and gave up. She couldn't properly think of one. "Well, you see, this nice girl who I ran into led me to a really fancy boutique." Sophie was having none of it, but her expression softened as she hugged Cecilia tenderly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm just glad you're safe. Remember, I told Gram and Granps that I'd take care of you and I will." The sentiment touched Cecilia as she returned the hug, closing her eyes. They parted then, both girls smiling as Sophie perked up. "Let's go get some food, huh? You must be hungry! We'll go looking for your backpack soon too while we're at it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia nodded as they made their way down the hall, curious gazes following them. She stared back behind her for a moment, her thoughts running wild and rampant. Did she really just meet book characters?</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chaos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Days passed, which both relieved and worried Cecilia. In the day that followed her return, she was anxious to grab ahold of a copy of The Phantom of the Opera and to do research on the sightings and details that were reported by that one journalist, Leroux.  She had to know if what she partly experienced was true. But, getting a copy turned out to be harder than suspected and it frustrated her immeasurably. At least historical witness accounts were easier to find.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sophie noticed the change in her young friend, becoming worried and trying to help distract her on what was supposed to be their vacation. Something had happened when she went missing temporarily, something strange, but she didn't want to stress Cecilia out with interrogation. Getting out of the US was possibly the best idea for them both and Sophie noticed Cecilia's nightmares weren't as frequent. Thank goodness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the fifth day, they had traveled to a local library, Cecilia sitting and staring at the computer with such intensity that her shoulders were hunched. "Oh!" Cecilia whispered to herself in surprise as she slowly pushed the chair away from the desk, running her hands over her scalp. It couldn't be. Sophie looked up from across the table, sighing before standing up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ceci, I think you've done enough research today. Please. Maybe we should grab something to eat and it's almost evening." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia blinked a couple times before sighing in defeat, exiting the page she was on and stood up. She fixed her clothes before both girls set off. The words she had seen were burned into her brain as they walked the congested streets.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>OPERA SINGER VANISHES AFTER PERFORMANCE</b>
</p><p>
  <b>"</b>
  <em>
    <span>My god.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia sat on the bed of her hotel room, the sounds of the TV softly filling the space. Sophie was asleep on the separate bed next to hers, quietly snoring after practically stuffing food down her throat. Cecilia had barely eaten her food as her thoughts bugged her and wouldn't loosen their grip. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>I need to know what happened. I need to get back</span>
  </em>
  <span>," she thought, determination filling her spirit. But how? It was a complete accident last time. Maybe it could happen again; she was quite good at attracting odd circumstances apparently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quietly got up from bed and donned an off the shoulder sweater, yoga pants, and tennis shoes. She didn't have the time to put on the intricate dress and she needed to go as quiet as a mouse. She quickly wrote a note for her slumbering friend, hoping that she wouldn't freak out so much and call the search brigade for her. She grabbed her bag of leftovers, took a last look at Sophie, and slipped out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked briskly to the Opera, the sky having turned into an orange and lavender hue. If she could walk fast enough, she would probably have time to investigate. She held the bag tightly in her hand, her breathing getting faster as she neared her destination. She walked up the steps to the main entrance, slowing her speed to a near crawl as she blended in with the other tourists. Her eyes gazed in wonder at how lovely the main foyer looked. Yes, she had seen it that first night when she left with Christine, but modern lights truly showed its marble beauty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting back to the task at hand, she slinked her way up the grand staircase that led to the amphitheater. She looked around to make sure no one saw what she was about to do. She snuck up on stage and wound her way backstage, carefully retracing her steps to the lonely dressing room in the far back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her bag crinkled lightly as she walked, careful to stay close to the shadows lest she be found and thrown out. She continued to make her trek until she finally found the long hallway, now littered with discarded props and lost costume bits. It looked as if the place hadn't been used in decades, if not longer. Cecilia walked slowly, her heart beating faster in anticipation; of what that could be, she couldn't say. Finally, she made it. The door had obviously seen better days and the lamp that had inhabited the hallway was no longer there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gingerly touched the faded door before putting her hand on the doorknob. As she tried to twist it, it wouldn't budge. Locked. Cecilia sighed as she tried harder and harder until the handle gave way, startling her. "Guess it was just rusted shut," she said to herself. She quickly entered and quietly shut the door before turning her eyes to the sad scene before her. The couch and chaise lounge were ripped and disgusting, piled with disused tutus and mismatched en pointe shoes. The curtains that adorned the archway separating the rooms were torn and moth eaten, the red color almost completely faded. The vanity was nowhere to be seen, probably taken by one of the staff members. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one item that was spared from destruction was the ornate mirror on the wall. Cecilia stared at her reflection from the opposite room before letting out a dissatisfied breath. She sat cross-legged upon the dusty floor, thinking of what she was to do next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok Ceci, breathe. Just breathe. It'll happen. You just gotta wait,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Cecilia whispered as she set her takeout bag next to her and covered her face with her hands. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just wait.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p><span>Erik felt as if his stomach would drop from his torso as he walked through his passageways, his breathing becoming somewhat erratic. She had seen him, truly </span><em><span>seen </span></em><span>him. How could she do this to him? "</span><em><span>If only she had been content to just hear me, the little minx!</span></em> <em><span>Erik will not lose her, non!</span></em><span>" </span></p><p>
  <span>After Christine had unmasked him, he had let all hell loose upon her, cursing her and hurting them both in the process. His face stung with the cuts that he had made with her fingernails under his black mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yes, he had forced her to look upon him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had retreated to his room, proceeding to play on his organ his greatest masterpiece </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don Juan Triumphant</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He played it with so much aggression, so much pain that he lost himself. He thought of nothing else. Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he emerged from his room hours later, mask back on his face, Christine was nowhere to be seen. In the Louis-Philippe room, no doubt. All she had left behind was that odd girls bag. Its contents still intrigued him of course, but it was about time he fetched Christine for food. Surely, she must be starving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he had approached the door however, he noted that the knob would not turn. Locked. He gently knocked on the door, hoping to see his beloved, but no such moment ever came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was three days ago. He was afraid of what could have become of her in that time frame, so he had to do the unthinkable. He had to locate her strange companion from the future. She had mysteriously vanished weeks ago with no explanation, leaving his Christine confused and worried. If he could find her, he could coaxe Christine out. He had to if she were ever to love him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He neared the passage that led to the mirror's entrance, his steps slowing as he could make out a shape on the other side of the glass. He narrowed his eyes as he saw a crumpled figure on the floor, wearing the oddest clothing he had seen. It was her. She was sitting on the floor with her face in her hands, an odd white bag next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had lifted her head then, her eyes going wide as she whipped her head around her as if to inspect what had happened. Her eyes then settled on the mirror for a split second before she stood and looked another way. He observed her a moment longer, planning his next course of action. It was now or never.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one movement of his hand, the barrier was broken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn't believe it; she did it! She whipped her head around to see that everything was as it was a century ago and she breathed a happy sigh. She turned her head towards the now present vanity, vaguely hearing the sound of something sliding to her left. Cecilia furrowed her brows before daring to see what had caused the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as her eyes met a tall shadow, she gasped, holding a hand to her now fast beating heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure in question was taller than she, her head reaching to about the tops of his shoulders. The cloak he wore draped down his body gracefully, nearly touching the ground. But, the thing that stood out the most to her from under his hat was the mask. It was black like the rest of his attire save for the silk fabric that hung over the mouth and sides. Oh, boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slowly grabbed her leftovers and stepped back a little, trying to get to the door. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you." He spoke before moving about an inch towards her, making her silently panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man talked again, almost quietly in a calm tone. "You're her, aren't you? Of course you would be," he chuckled. "Who else would be wearing such… </span>
  <em>
    <span>interesting </span>
  </em>
  <span>attire?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether that was meant to insult her, she didn't care. She wanted to run, but something kept her glued to the spot. She managed to utter words. "W-who are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who am I? More importantly, who are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>? I would very much like to know that, if you don't mind." He tried to speak as politely and calmly as possible, trying to gain her trust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia hesitated. "It's Cecilia. And what do you mean 'you're her'? Who… do you know Christine?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was. "Why yes, I do. And it has come to my attention that you are her closest friend and possibly the one who can help me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised her eyebrows at that remark. "Help you how?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You see, Cecilia," he began, his baritone voice practically vibrating to her core, "Christine seems to have locked herself in her room in my house and I need a woman's touch to help lead her out. It can't possibly be healthy to stay in there for long periods of time." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oook? And where's your house?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh don't worry, you'll see soon enough," he said slyly, gesturing to the open void where the mirror's glass once stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia stared at the void of unending darkness, her inner voice telling her it wasn't a good idea and she vocalised it. "Dude, that looks like a murder scene waiting to happen. Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn't discern his facial features under the mask, but his body language stiffened slightly at her assumed denial. Oh, she would probably come to regret this later, but she had to see Christine. She sighed wistfully, nodding her head and walking forward towards the black hole in the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tall figure went in before her, leaning down to retrieve an old lantern that had resided on the floor. He gestured with a long, spindly gloved hand and she scurried into the hole before the glass slid into place. "Shall we continue, mademoiselle?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She uttered an "uh-huh" as they started to walk, her mind reeling from what she had just agreed to. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid, stupid, stupid,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" she kept repeating in her brain. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>You're gonna get murdered here and no one will be able to find you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her bag of takeout crinkled as she walked behind the man, the light from the lantern barely bright enough to make out anything in the pitch blackness. They had traveled down stairs, through hallways of stone, and even past stables of all things. The temperature had dropped significantly the further they went, Cecilia cursing under her breath that she should've dressed warmer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them had spoken during the journey and Cecilia wanted to break the unnerving silence. "So, uh, what are you? The resident ghost man thing?" Smooth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man sighed, looking over his shoulder at the petite woman before answering her. "I suppose that sounds right. And if I recall correctly, you're the one who has come from the far future, no?" He wanted to know some details if they were to be walking companions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, you're right," she began. "I don't know how I got here, honestly. But, I have to admit, all of this really sparks my history brain, you know? Plus, I'm in a time where all the major historical events haven't happened yet and that's amazing." The spark in her voice was back, replacing the uncertainty from before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erik raised his brows from behind the mask, noting how animated her voice had become. If he had to, he'd admit that it was somewhat of an endearing quality. He knew what it was like to get excited in his younger days, especially when it came to music and architecture. He shook the pointless thoughts away, determined to get her to his house post haste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Cecilia rambled, she vaguely heard the sounds of water before she felt her ankle give way over a sudden drop from the stone that was under her feet seconds ago. She yelped and held onto her takeout for dear life, preparing to feel the sudden chill of ice cold water until she felt a strong, thin hand wrap around her upper arm. She felt her cheeks heat up as she was pulled back from the edge before her back was against a chest; </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now, now," he whispered, his breath brushing against the tendrils framing her face, "we don't need a needless casualty, do we?" He released his grip from her, striding over to the small boat that was docked and fixed the lantern to the front. He held out his gloved hand to her. "Shall we?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coming down from her high, she shakily nodded and gently grabbed his hand, being guided to sit on a single plank of wood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He began to row from behind her across the still crystalline water, the chill in the air becoming more severe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia shivered, using her hands to warm her upper arms as best as she could. She noted from the light of the lantern that she could see her breath. She thought back to how close he had been to her face, how deep his voice sounded in her ear and she felt herself blush. Suddenly, her shoulders were enveloped in warmth, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked down to see that it was his cloak and she turned towards him, hopefully expecting an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave her a quick glance before continuing to row. "Can't have you dying of chill before we get there now, can we?" He had a hint of amusement in his voice, something she wasn't expecting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn't help but subtly smirk as she turned back around, huddling closer in his soft cloak. The boat ride was surprisingly pleasant, mostly because Cecilia wasn't shivering to the bone anymore. In a matter of moments, the boat tapped against stone and Cecilia's guide gently helped her up and out of the boat. On land, the cloak dragged on the floor due to Cecilia's small stature, who in turn tried to gather it in her arms to prevent it from tearing and collecting dirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man walked up to her with lantern in hand, ushering her to walk forward. A few steps and she was at the foot of small steps leading to a seemingly normal door. "A house… underground?" She said aloud, staring at him as he walked past and unlocked the door, looking down at her and turning the knob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have quite the keen eye," he said, sarcasm lightly painting that sonorous voice of his. He gently swung the door open, gesturing for her to enter. She carefully stepped through the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the low lighting from the gas lamps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was spacious, but practically filled to the brim with flowers and ribbons; some withering and some still full of fresh life. Cecilia set her food on a small table before removing the dark cloak from around her shoulders, her eyes widening in childlike wonder. She maneuvered her way around the baskets of flowers, mindlessly dropping the cloak on a nearby couch until she ended up in the middle of the room. The sound of stones scraping broke her from her reverie, causing her to turn to see the man entering behind her, the main door no longer visible to the human eye. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, God.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In this new light, she could see that he wore an impeccably tailored black three piece suit, the cravat around his neck of the same color. She noticed that he was unusually thin and the skin, from what she could make out from where it peeked from under the mask, looked grey. His hair was black and somewhat slicked. He looked normal, but unnerving all at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Building up her non-existent courage, she voiced her main concern. "Ok, where's Christine?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man wordlessly used his hand to guide his new guest to the left until they both stood outside the normal mahogany door. Cecilia gazed up at the man, her heart picking up speed before she gently knocked on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go away!" The voice on the other side sounded terrified yet exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia pressed both hands against the door, nearing her head to the woods surface. "Christine, it's Cecilia. Can I come in?" She heard shuffling from the other side, the sound of the door unlocking greeting her ears. The door opened a crack, but before she entered, she turned her head to her host, who now stood off to the side and away from the line of vision. "Can you wait this out? I don't know how long this'll be."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man made no sound, only bowing his head before he retreated to the main living area, rounding the corner and disappearing from sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cecilia stared after him a moment too long, finally entering the room, anxious to see what had happened to her friend.</span>
</p>
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